


Warmth

by notebooksandlaptops



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute, F/M, Fluff, Getting Together, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Morning After, Morning Cuddles, Multi, OT3, Polyamory Negotiations, Pre-transformation Yennefer, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, and this is what my mind came up with to fulful this wish, brief references to sexual content, i wanted yennefer asking geralt if they could keep Jaskier, this is literally just
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25050400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notebooksandlaptops/pseuds/notebooksandlaptops
Summary: “He’s cute, isn’t he?” A female voice was murmuring. A startingly, horrifyingly, familiar female voice.Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit.This was not the first time he’d woken up next to someone inadvisable, but he had an awful feeling that he was not just waking up next to one inadvisable person but--“Hmmm,” came the oh so familiar rumble to his left.He’d slept with his best friend and his best friends wife.-///-Or, the morning after of the first night Jaskier sleeps with Geralt and Yennefer (but it definitely won't be the last)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 75
Kudos: 1030





	Warmth

_Warm._

That was Jaskier’s first thought when he started to wake up that morning. It was a nice thought, a nice feeling. There was simply this hazy, lazy _warmth_ permeating his entire being. It was the kind of warmth that made you want to stay curled up in bed all day, the kind of warmth where there was no real reason to open your eyes. If he let himself, he knew he could drift back off to sleep, quite happily and doze his Saturday away.

Except— there _was_ something that had woken him up, he realised. A background level noise that was none the less close enough to pull his mind from the blissful escapism of sleep.

It could be the radio. But, no, that would require someone to actually turn the radio _on,_ which he clearly wasn’t in any state to have done, unless he’d taken up the habit of sleepwalking. The pillow beneath his head would suggest he hadn’t.

He likely would have phased it out, gone back to sleep, if he hadn’t felt a light touch against his hair.

Wait, _what_?

Jaskier’s mind slammed on with all the force of breaks deployed just in time.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” A female voice was murmuring. A startingly, horrifyingly, familiar female voice.

_Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit._

This was not the first time he’d woken up next to someone inadvisable, but he had an awful feeling that he was not just waking up next to _one_ inadvisable person but--

“Hmmm,” came the oh so familiar rumble to his left.

Well.

_Shit._

Memories – pressing memories, tinted with too much wine – began to swim back into his field of vision. _Laughter, leaning his head on Geralt’s shoulder, Geralt turning his face to make out with Yennefer_ , _and then Yennefer’s fingers on Jaskier’s jaw, tilting his face upwards. The taste of wine on her lips. The, quite frankly, angelic sound of Geralt’s moans._

Oh, _fuck._

He’d slept with his best friend _and_ his best friends wife.

In one way it was, undeniably, a dream come true. He’d fantasied about such a scenario plenty of times, though he didn’t think any of his guiltily concocted daydreams actually managed to get an inch on the real thing.

It was also, quite frankly, the _worst_ sort of dream to come true. Fantasises were all well and good when they had a clean ending, but nobody wanted to dream up the morning after scenario, where he was awkwardly pushed from the confines of a marital bed and told _it was just a one-time thing, sorry, thanks for spicing up our evening, there’s the door._

Jaskier had been pining for far, _far_ too long to survive that.

So he kept his eyes shut, tried to relax his breathing. The longer he pretended to be asleep, the further away the inevitable rejection lay.

Above him, the couple kept talking. “Many plans for today?” he could feel the slight brush of Yennefer’s arm as she leaned over him, undoubtedly to touch Geralt somehow. Jaskier had always liked the way Yennefer and Geralt touched one another; soft, as if hyper-aware of the way the rest of the world had a tendency to treat them: the girl with the twisted spine, the man with too many scars, both with childhoods seeped in far, far too much trama.

Jaskier thought the world was a bunch of bollacks when it came to its views on them. He’d gladly fight it on their behalf, gladly defend them to the end of his days. In fact, he _had_ started a few barfights over them in his time. Ableist, racist, _assholes_ did not deserve to even _look_ at Yennefer, let alone comment on her. As for those who pigeonholed Geralt as a dumb thug? Yeah. They deserved a punch and a half.

Because for Jaskier, both of them would always be nothing but _beautiful_. Jaskier had always thought they were so, so beautiful. More so when they were together. They both had a fire in them, and he was a moth about to be burned in the inferno. He couldn’t help himself.

Maybe last night was the final push to turn his heart to nought but ash.

“The stables, maybe. When we get up,” Jaskier could picture Geralt shrugging in nonchalance, “no riding lessons to teach today though. You?”

“Day in,” Yennefer spoke. There was quiet again.

“I’ll go make us some coffee,” the bed shifted as Geralt went to get up, “I’ll be back.”

“There’s those herbal teas in the cupboard Jaskier likes. The ones that taste like perfume,” Yennefer’s addition surprised Jaskier, but…they weren’t liable to just kick him out, were they? No, they were his friends. Tea. Awkward laughter. _Then_ he’d be kicked out and he’d probably have to avoid them for a good long while too. Which was shitty, because they were on his pub quiz team, and Geralt was the one who was good at all the trivia.

Jaskier didn’t know if he could stand any of this. His fingers still felt warm where last night he’d touched both their skin, his lips still tender from soft kisses shared between. _Fuck._ He’d never be able to forget it. He’d never be able to go back. He’d probably have to move to Mexico, change his name, enter witness protection or something. At least then he wouldn’t have to go through the torture of knowing they liked how he _looked_ but they didn’t like _him._ Or not enough, at least. Not enough to ask him to stay.

He was drawn out of his spiral of thoughts though, by a touch to his arm.

It was as gentle as anything. So much so, that at first, Jaskier was certain that it must have been a mistake, just an accidental brush as Yennefer settled further into the bed. Which was why he was shocked when it continued. She was tracing some random pattern onto his skin, up across his arm, over the bridge of his shoulders, into the curls of hair at his chest.

Jaskier tried to keep breathing normally. _Fuck._ What was she _doing?_ Was it torment? Did she know he was awake?

But no. Despite how they might bicker, he knew Yennefer wasn’t that cruel. At least not to people she liked, and he was pretty certain that she liked him. At least, he was ninety-nine per cent certain. Maybe ninety-eight.

She had certainly _seemed_ to like him last night when he was on his knees, hands clenched around her thighs, lips pressed hungrily to her wetness.

_Fuck._ He should have made sure he was more drunk before they fell into bed. Those memories were far, far too clear. They were going to haunt him forever, he just knew it. A tantalising taste of an _almost_ he’d never properly get to have _._

He took a stuttering breath and tried to pretend that his heart wasn’t breaking, tried to keep up the ruse of being asleep. Just a little longer, just a little longer.

Eventually, he heard footsteps, Geralt coming back. He was almost surprised when he felt the covers move, Geralt getting back under. He was even more shocked when Geralt – after placing down whatever drinks he was carrying on the bedside table – wrapped one arm around Jaskier’s waist and tugged him a little closer.

“You look happy,” Yennefer accused, softly, from above Jaskier.

“I am,” Geralt’s voice was a rumble in Jaskier’s ear.

“Hmmm, I’m glad,” Her fingers were back on Jaskier’s arm again, “I think we should keep him.”

Geralt’s chuckle seemed quiet compared to the sudden way his heart started clambering for attention. She was _joking._ She had to be _joking._ She wasn’t— they wouldn’t want— they were _married_ for crying out loud. He was just the annoying friend, there for comic relief no doubt. Nothing more.

“He’s not a toy, Yen,” Geralt spoke.

“He’s a bit of a boy toy, though.”

“He’s only a few years younger than us.”

“He’s got baby cheeks.”

Quiet for a moment longer, Geralt’s arm around his waist squeezing just so, “if he wants to be kept,” Geralt’s voice was soft, low, “then, of course, we will.”

Okay, okay, what? No. Okay. What?

Jaskier bit his lower lip. He really had no clue what was going on.

“Okay, now you’re not even properly _pretending_ to be asleep, Jaskier,” Yennefer’s voice was close to his ear now.

Jaskier winced.

Ah, _shit._

_Busted._

He kept his eyes stubbornly closed, “I’m not pretending,” he lied through a bit of a pout, the blush on his cheeks likely redder than a damn tomato by now.

Yennefer laughed. Fuck, Jaskier loved the sound of her laugh when it was real and unpractised. He loved that he was one of the few people who could draw it out of her

“You’ve been pretending for at _least_ ten minutes. Come on, we’re not going to chase you away as soon as you stop,” Yennefer’s hand was back to playing with the curls of his chest hair.

Jaskier took a deep breath, and then slowly, slowly opened his eyes.

It was a sight and a half.

The way he was facing, he could mostly see just Yennefer. Her hair was a mess, untouched in the morning, but her smile was unusually soft. The blanket fell off her shoulder just so, revealing the hickies Jaskier had trailed onto her last night.

“Hi,” Jaskier muttered, cheeks overheating. Maybe he was about to implode with embarrassment.

“Good morning,” Geralt’s lips were suddenly on his neck, so that he could feel the words being pressed into his skin.

Jaskier might have forgotten to breathe, for a second there.

“Um…” Jaskier swallowed, “Did you…say something about keeping me?” He felt the redness rise to his cheeks. _Shit._ He was usually smoother than this. “I mean, obviously, if you were joking I can just go. We don’t have to dwell on all this. There was a lot of wine and you were probably just drunk and it’s fine, really, I’m used to one night stands and we don’t have to make it awkward and—”

Yennefer shut him up.

Yennefer shut him up by _kissing him._

Jaskier made a squeaking noise against her lips before melting into it. “You want us.” She whispered, when she pulled back, into the tiny gap between them.

“…am I that obvious?”

“Not really,” Geralt grunted, at the same moment Yennefer said, “absolutely.”

Jaskier laughed, shifting in Geralt’s arms to face him. “You want…me?”

Yennefer had made herself pretty clear, after all, but Geralt was being silent as normal.

Geralt took a deep breath as if about to say something rather taxing, “For a long time. I thought—” he flinched ever so slightly, “Yennefer had to convince me you wanted me back. I always assumed… you were too…bright.”

Jaskier felt his whole expression soften to match the goo-y warmth his heart had become, “Of course I wanted you. Forever. _Both_ of you, fuck, when you started dating Yennefer I thought it was going to be the end of me because you were so _perfect_ for each other and—”

“Your perfect for us too,” Yennefer cut in, tucking herself against his back easily.

Jaskier swallowed, “Fuck. This…I might be dreaming.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, “no.” He affirmed.

Jaskier felt warmth. So much warmth, like when he’d first woken up. Safe. They’d have…no doubt more to talk about later if Jaskier could pull the words from them. But right now, knowing they wanted him, that he wanted them…it was enough. It was _enough._

He closed his eyes, breathing them both in and feeling that lazy, dozy feeling take him again.

He was so warm and so, so happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Writing ANOTHER cutsie meaningless drabble when I should be working on my Big Bang fic and my other long WIPs? It's more likely than you think. 
> 
> This was literally just an excuse to have Yennefer ask Geralt if they can keep the bard. That's it. That's all I wanted. 
> 
> Come hang out with me on Tumblr [@Jaskier-wearing-dresses](https://jaskier-wearing-dresses.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Toss a comment/kudos to your tired fanfic writer?


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